


we're not here.

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-18
Updated: 2008-03-24
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: (100 words, 100 stories, 100 secrets) Matilda Montague would never kiss and tell. (A character sketch in 100 word drabbles)





	1. 036. family

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_036\. family._

Mattie doesn't look like her father. Adrian is tall, broad and dark - his beard scratches her face when she goes for the obligatory goodnight hug, and his big eyes narrow when she does something to offend. He is triangular, sharp, and hard. Mattie doesn't look like her mother, either. Daphne is all curves and golden honey. Her hair falls in waves; her eyes are soft and wet. Mattie is all elbows and knees, hair the colour of dirty hay, eyes hazel. Mattie looks like a Muggle born boy with hazel soft eyes and a lean smile and dirty blood. 


	2. 079. sickness

_079\. sickness._

("Because a miracle’s a whim, it’s a flash of glory,it’s an empty tin and maybe might lets you in   
not to save you but to keep on looking--")

 

  
She can’t control them, the waves of nausea that roll over her, pushing her forward toward the toilet, half-hoping she doesn’t miss. She doesn’t, which is a relief. She doesn’t need questions, or pity, or curiosity, or judgment. She doesn’t need anyone else involved. She doesn’t need the drama. She leans her head against the porcelain, and tries to breath. In and out, fighting off another wretch. Her dinner, half-digested, putrid and various shades of brown and green, stares back, judging her, punishing her. With a sigh she wipes off her mouth, flushes the toilet and begins another day.


	3. 069. corruption

("Tonight we open our doors to the the Devil to bring on the pain." _\--_ The Fugatives)

_069\. corruption._

  
She knows it’ll hurt, in the end. There’s no way this can end well. No way she can contain all of the knowledge, all of sin, for much longer. Already she can feel the pressure getting to her – the way she jumps when his name comes up, the way she leaves the room when that night is mentioned. But -- she loves the thrill, the fire that is her sin. It is her secret. Every time their lips meet in secret, their eyes connect across the hall; her skin is set on fire by the scorching heat that is her sinful corruption.


	4. 001. broken

_001\. broken_

  
Finally, it’s all just too much for her to handle – the lies the fighting, the secrets, the pain, anything, everything, all at once-- She collapses. With a moan, she slips to the floor, and the sobs overpower her. Can’t breathe, can’t think, and can’t speak. Gasping - a shuddering, haunting quest for air, for safety, and met with only echoing silence.  No control. It burns. The water burns; it leaves red marks as it splashes onto her bare skin and runs down her naked body, comforting in its attack.  The shower drowns out her sobs, and she is numb.


	5. 057. young.

_057\. young._

__  
The baby looks up at her. It smells faintly like flowers and something strange but absolutely familiar at once. All around her, the family coos and makes soft, high-pitched noises. People have been coming in and out of the house all week, and her grandmother has been here for a month – “to help” – and there are presents everywhere, but they’re not for her.  She stares back down at the baby, and frowns. She pokes its over-sized cheek. It smiles. “How do you like your baby brother?” Someone – an aunt, maybe– crouches beside her.

  
“He’s alright, I guess.”


	6. 015. green.

_015\. green._

  
“Are you sure about this?”

  
“Absolutely.”

  
“What if we get in trouble?”

  
“That’s the whole point.”

  
“To get in trouble?!”

  
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

  
“I do.”

  
“Then pass me the bag.”

  
“What bag?”

  
“It’s not here.”

  
“What?”

  
“No bag.”

  
 “So, we’re half-way up a tree, seconds away from executing the sweetest revenge on unsuspecting Slytherin whores, and you’re telling me there’s no bag? The bag of slime that we meticulously grew to our exact specifications?”

  
“Pretty much.”

  
“Merlin’s balls.”

 

  
“I think you took that quite well.”

“Shut up.”

 

  
“Mattie?”

“What.”

“How do we get down?”


End file.
